


subways and soup kitchens

by crazywineaunt



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Acts of Kindness, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Brooklyn, Chicken Soup, Gen, Homeless Bucky Barnes, Homelessness, Hurt/Comfort, Kindness, Mild Hurt/Comfort, New York, One Shot, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Sleep, Sleep Deprivation, Soup, Soup Kitchens, Starvation, Subways, Tired Bucky Barnes, Tired Steve Rogers, Trains, subway station
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-16
Updated: 2020-06-16
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:02:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24745777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crazywineaunt/pseuds/crazywineaunt
Summary: Steve sleeps past the last stop on the subway.Inspired by this writing prompt:What comes after the last station? A character falls asleep in the train and misses the last stop.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes & Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Comments: 4
Kudos: 59





	subways and soup kitchens

"Hey, kid. Up. Last stop."

"Wha-"

Steve was rudely brought back to the land of the living by a finger prodding incessantly at his arm. He frowned up at the culprit, blinking slowly before screwing his eyes shut and curling up on himself in a vain effort to go back to sleep.

"Five more minutes, Ma-"

He was jolted out of his dreams again by a hand enclosing his arm in a vice grip and dragging him out of the plastic subway seat. He was unceremoniously dumped on the platform by a tired looking officer.

Steve looked around him, reality coming back to him in bits and pieces as the cool station air hit him in the face.

Right. He must have fallen asleep on the subway. Again.

He got up slowly, rubbing unconsciously at the spot where the officer had grabbed him. It would probably bruise a little. But Steve had bigger problems. Like a place to sleep where he wouldn’t freeze to death.

It wasn’t snowing, but frigid wind collided with his thin frame as soon as he climbed out of the underground. Wrapping his jacket securely around him, he inhaled deeply before trudging forward. The wind felt like pins and needles on his exposed face, but staying still meant death in this bitch of a winter. So, he walked on.

The city grew lighter as dawn approached. Steve was so focused on putting one foot in front of the other that he didn’t notice the dark lump huddled against a bus stop until he tripped on it.

His face would have collided with the concrete, if a metal arm hadn’t shot out of the lump and caught him around his middle. Steve caught his breath as he was set upright. He squinted at the man who had just saved his face from an unfortunate end. Listless ice blue eyes stared up at him. The man looked like someone had left a corpse out to rot in the streets, with sunken cheeks and an expression devoid of warmth. One of his arms looked like it was made of metal, glinting dully in the early morning light.

Steve was about to say something when both men’s stomachs growled in unison. Steve’s sigh left him in a puff of white in the winter air. He was barely able to keep himself alive, without adding another homeless person to the list.

He really hated the morals instilled in him by his Ma at times like this.

“Hello?” Steve tried.

Nothing.

He waved a hand in front of the man’s face. His eyes tracked Steve’s hands well enough, but other than that there was no reaction.

Leaning down, he pulled the man up. When he didn’t react to being manhandled, Steve dragged the metal arm across his thin shoulders. He started walking in the general direction of the nearest soup kitchen, trying not to stumble or collapse under the weight of the considerably taller man. A few early morning commuters passed them without more than a passing glance. That was New York for you.

Somehow the odd pair made it to their destination. Steve staggered inside, making sure he didn’t bump the other man too much against the door as he entered.

“Steve! You’re early!”

Steve looked up at the familiar voice. A man in his early thirties stood at a stovetop, stirring a giant pot. He grinned at Steve.

“Hi, Sam.” Steve wheezed. Sam’s grin turned into concern. He set his ladle down and walked around the counter, rushing to take the weight off Steve’s shoulders. Sam gently deposited the man in a chair at the nearest table and turned back to Steve, eyebrows raised.

“I found him under a bus stop, and he–” Steve started defensively.

Sam raised a hand to stop his ramble mid-sentence. “This isn’t the first time you’ve brought in a stray, Steve. And God help me, but it won’t be the last.”

Steve opened his mouth again but Sam shook his head fondly. All the fight bled out of Steve at his unassuming aura.

“Just go sit down, okay. You look like you’re about to fall over. I’ll bring some food over.”

Steve pulled out a chair next to his ‘stray’, as Sam put it and collapsed in it, letting the warmth of the kitchen thaw him out. Light snoring reached his ears and he glanced over. The man had his normal arm stretched over the table; head pillowed on it as he dozed.

Well. Nothing to do but wait. Steve’s fingers fidgeted endlessly, as they always did when they didn’t have a pencil and paper in them. He groaned. His bag was probably still in the train that he had been thrown out of.

His nose twitched as the heavenly aroma of chicken broth wafted over. Sam slid two bowls filled to the brim with soup on the table with a tray of bread.

“Enjoy, gentlemen.”

Steve smiled tiredly up at him.

“Thanks, Sam.”

Sam shot him a mock salute and went back to his counter. He started chopping more vegetables, leaving them in relative privacy. It was still early; a few other people dotted the kitchen. It was nowhere near as crazy as rush hour.

Steve steeled himself and gently nudged the sleeping man across him. He woke with a start, eyes widening in alarm. Steve retracted his hand.

“Hey, you’re okay.”

The man’s eyes zeroed in on Steve, as if only just noticing he was there. Steve chose his next words carefully, speaking slowly and clearly.

“M’ name’s Steve. I found you collapsed outside, and you were unresponsive so.” He scratched the back of his head. God, he wasn’t explaining this well.

“You looked like you needed to eat. I brought you here.” The man only stared more. Steve wasn’t entirely sure he was comprehending his words.

“It’s a soup kitchen.” Steve gestured lamely around them.

“Soup?” The man’s voice sounded hoarse with disuse. Steve had to strain to hear it over the bubbling stoves.

He nodded, pushing one of the bowls into the man’s hands. He finally tore his gaze away from Steve and looked down at the bowl. He tore off a piece of bread and used it to scoop up some of the soup.

“Careful, it’s –”

The man sputtered, holding a metal hand to his mouth.

“… Hot.” Steve finished.

Steve picked up his own bowl while the other guy recovered. Silence fell again as they wolfed down the hot food. Steve swallowed down his last bit of soup and leaned back in his chair, basking in a post-meal haze. He watched the other man finish his soup with half-lidded eyes.

“I forgot to ask, what’s your name?” Steve said after a while.

The man looked up from his soup, eyes analyzing Steve.

“Bucky. Bucky Barnes.”, he rasped.

“Steve Rogers.” He stuck his hand out. Bucky stared at it like it was some alien object he had never seen before. He didn’t take it, but he nodded slowly in acknowledgment. Progress. Steve would accept his small victories.

“T’was nice to meet you, Bucky. I have to go now, but you should stay here for a bit. Talk to Sam over there about getting some more soup.” He pointed at Sam, who was pretending not to overhear the whole conversation. He gave Steve an innocent look. Steve rolled his eyes.

Bucky nodded again. Steve hoped he wasn’t just nodding out of habit. As much as Steve wanted to help this guy, there was only so much he could do. He shot a quick smile at Bucky. His chair scraped on the floor as he got up. He walked over to Sam before leaving.

“I’ll be on my way. Could you make sure the guy I brought in gets a change of clothes?” He looked over at Bucky, who was now staring into the depths of his now empty bowl like it held the secrets of the universe.

“Sure thing. You sure you don’t want to stay a while longer?”

Steve shook his head. In the past, Sam might have argued. But he knew Steve was as stubborn as he was small, so he let it go.

“Good luck out there, man.”

Steve’s lips turned upward in a smile, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. He turned the collar of his jacket up and stepped back out into the cold. The sun was out in its full glory now. He shielded his eyes against the blinding white snow on the sidewalk.

He considered his options for the day as he waited for the pedestrian light to turn green. He could go to the library for a place to sit, maybe read some books. The subway could wait until night. Hopefully he wouldn’t fall asleep past the last stop again. Nothing good came out of coming under the radar of the cops. He’d gotten lucky last night with the officer stopping at just throwing him out.

Ice blue eyes flashed in his memories.

Well, maybe one good thing had come out of missing the last stop.

**Author's Note:**

> Thoughts are always welcome in the comments!


End file.
